


Ours

by tealuvhonor



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Holding Hands, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealuvhonor/pseuds/tealuvhonor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: an AU where Rafe isn’t killed on Avery’s ship and returns with Sam and Nathan. </p>
<p>Sam, in turn, secured the rope, hands lingering on Rafe’s for a bit longer than anticipated. The silence was somewhat comfortable, the thrum of the propellers serving as background noise.</p>
<p>“Why did you leave?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sooner this shitty plane landed, the better.

Of course Sam’d take flying over being stranded on Avery’s deathtrap of an island any day, but jesus, this thing felt as if it were older than Sullivan himself. Speaking of, the old geezer had just finished telling him off for making Nate run after him- and Sam, having blocked most of it out, was sitting toward the back of the vehicle with Elena…..plus some unexpected cargo.

“What are we supposed to do with him?,” Nathan not-so-subtly whispered to the rest of the group, gesturing (again, not-so-subtly) at none other than Rafe Adler, who was hunched over toward the very end of the cabin, wrists tied forcefully behind his back. The knot was Elena’s handiwork, judging by the harsh rope burns on his forearms. Sam really couldn’t blame her for being pissed, especially after everything she went through to save her husband. She was asleep at the moment, resting her head on one of the seats.

Sam also made a mental note to apologize to Elena later, which wasn’t at all influenced by the possibility of her being able to kick his ass. Nope.

“We should drop him at his daddy’s doorstep. That’d be an interesting conversation,” Victor mused, eyes wavering from the controls for a moment, “Stick a nice big bow on him and everything.”

“Yeah, thanks for your contribution, but this is serious,” Sam finally spoke up, focusing on Nathan, “I don’t see why you had to bring him back here. He sure as hell wouldn’t have done the same for us.”

“He would’ve drowned, Sam. We couldn’t just leave him there!”

That was his brother. Kind, heroic, forgiving Nathan, who just had to drag an unconscious and likely homicidal Rafe out of the ship wreckage. 

“See, I beg to differ,” Sam added with a grimace, turning away to peer nervously at the disheveled individual their group was harboring. To be blunt, Rafe was a goddamn mess. His shirt was in tatters, stained with dry blood and seawater. The wounds on his torso were visible, and the bandages needed to be changed to prevent infection. His hair remained tousled from exertion, a stark contrast to its usual sleek decorum. He was facing the floor, though, refusing to meet any of their eyes.

There was silence within the plane for a while, save for the erratic sputtering coming from the engine and Elena’s faint snoring. 

“Hey,” Nathan murmured, sounding a bit cautious , “He’s been awake for a while now. Why don’t you check up on him?”

With an exaggerated sigh, the eldest Drake brother crouched, nearly slamming his head on the ceiling as he made his way to the back. Rafe was looking at him now. There were bags under his eyes, dark and severe, and in that moment, Sam almost pitied him.

“You need new bandages,” Sam blurted out, and immediately fumbled around to find the roll of gauze that just had to be somewhere and…got it. “Can you uh,” he grunted, ripping the fabric, “Can you take your shirt off?”

“Does it look like I can?,” Rafe replied sarcastically, voice hoarse and strained like sandpaper. He emphasized the statement by shrugging his shoulders, biceps flexing and ah, yes, the floor was suddenly very fun to stare at, as was literally anything but Rafe. 

“Right. Sorry,” Sam coughed, “Lemme untie you.”

And that he did. Rafe was compliant enough once he was unbound, shrugging the black cloth over his shoulders, then wincing. Must’ve agitated the wounds- and there were a lot of them. The most prominent was an angry slash across his chest that Sam tried his best to cover up as the smaller man exhaled heavily, every breath resonating against Sam’s fingers. It also came to his attention that Rafe was shivering.

“Take this,” Sam grunted, removing the layer he wore over his t-shirt and shoving it into Rafe’s calloused hands.

Rafe said nothing, but wore it anyways, holding his wrists outward to be tied once again. Sam, in turn, secured the rope, hands lingering on Rafe’s for a bit longer than anticipated. The silence was somewhat comfortable, the thrum of the propellers serving as background noise.

“Why did you leave?”

Rafe’s question was so quiet, so faint, that Sam almost missed it.

“This again? For Nathan, you know that,” he answered softly, naturally, because his first concern had been his brother ever since he could remember.

“Yeah, Nathan, that’s what I thought. It’s always Nathan. Sorry I asked.”

“…Wait, are you jealous or something? Because-”

“No!,” Rafe hissed, squirming in his restraints, “Don’t you ever make that assumption again.”

“Sure, because you’re in the perfect position to give orders right now,” Sam remarked, earning a particularly nasty look from the other man. “Okay, listen. He’s my brother, Rafe. I hadn’t seen him in over a decade. I only wanted to-”

“To find the treasure. With him.” 

The way Rafe spat Nathan’s name out was downright venomous, and Sam was a bit taken aback. He watched Rafe evade his gaze again, feral expression receding and culminating in a sort of melancholic one.

“It was ours, Sam. Ours,” he whispered, those hazy green eyes staring right back up at Sam.

Oh. 

Oh.

The look they shared was knowing, and they searched each other’s eyes for some sort of confirmation. The answer was clear as day.

Sam’s hand rested on Rafe’s knee, and they were quiet for the rest of the flight.


	2. Long Time Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam shows up at Rafe's mansion with something important to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your feedback makes me CRY so here's a year-late addition! Who else can't wait for Lost Legacy ??

"If this is a joke, I'm not laughing," Nadine grated over the iPhone speaker, quite staticky given the incredibly long distance between them. 

And thank god for distance, because Rafe was sure she'd put him in a coma had he attempted to have this conversation in person. He'd been home for about five days days, and once he'd recovered from the crushing depressive episode failure had left him with post-Avery. Once he managed to crawl out of bed, it occurred to him that he left a shitload of expensive excavation equipment in Scotland and Madagascar combined, most of which Nadine's men handled. Hard as he tried to let it go, the numbers on the paper didn't lie, and his treasure hunt put a huge dent in his bank account for naught. He was in no financial trouble by any means, but his reputation was damaged beyond repair, and he was nowhere near ready to face the public eye. 

He never actually deleted Nadine's number, but there was no doubt he was dead to her after what happened on the ship. In hindsight, she was rightfully pissed. Even Rafe himself could admit that his hunger for glory took a toll on him- hell, the same happened for Sam, and they both nearly died. 

Reluctantly, he had pressed dial.

"That equipment is not yours. I've compensated you handsomely in advance of the expedition, and I expect-" 

"The expedition in which you failed, and I was denied profit, you mean. I'm not fetching your toys for you, Rafe, I'm busy." 

"Killing people for money, you mean." 

"I recall you doing that for free," Nadine replied, radiating smugness. Her voice wavered in and out because of background noise on her end, presumably weaponry being tested. Hs sources informed him that she was operating out of South Africa at the time, 

He was moments away from slamming his head on the surface of his desk when a cacophonous cranking sound rang out in the receiver. 

"Is that my fucking crane?," he shouted, managing to drown out the noise. 

"Bye, Rafe," Nadine laughed, promptly hanging up on him.

He hurled the phone at the wall, ears ringing. He didn't even know what he expected from a common thug. They were all just thieves after all- Rafe, Nate, Sam, Shoreline. It wasn't his fault Nathan Drake drove him to the brink of fucking madness, after all. Despite his lingering anger, he was ashamed to be reduced to that, covered in his own blood and raving about the promise of glory that ruled his life since Panama, tied up like an animal and dropped off. The worst of it was the fact that they pitied him. He barely met Sam's eyes on the ride home, and for the first time in years, tears had threatened to spill down his newly scarred face. 

His cell phone lay cracked on the hardwood floor. Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair as he did instinctively in times of frustration. Strands hung over his forehead, wispy and unkempt. He didn't have the motivation to style it recently, given the fact that every time he stared at himself in the mirror, all he saw was darkened circles below his eyes and failure. 

Just as he began to consider returning to bed and sleeping off the anger once again, the mahogany door to his study creaked open and light filtered into the room, revealing a familiar face that he honestly wasn't ready to see for a very long time. 

"Butler let me in," Sam said, clearing his throat as he stepped into the room, shutting the door gently behind him. 

"You have the nerve to show your face-" 

"Woah, I'm just checkin' on you. You didn't answer my calls," Sam said, his voice lowered as if not to set Rafe off. His eyes, infuriatingly blue and sympathetic as ever, reflected genuine concern.

"I don't want your pity. I'm busy," Rafe replied, echoing Nadine's excuse. 

Rafe's eyes wandered to the side while Sam turned his gaze to the floor where the cracked phone lay. 

"Rough day?," the taller man murmured, a bit of amusement in his voice. Rafe glared at him, and Sam was starting to look as if he regretted visiting altogether. He saw him brushing a hand over his pants pocket fleetingly, a telltale sign that he was itching for a smoke. Yeah, Rafe knew him that well. He knew that Sam poison of choice was whiskey on the rocks, knew he had a weakness for reality shows and cappuccinos and his favorite color was green but it didn't matter anymore because things were never going to be the way they were and as much as Rafe had surprised his affections for years, he knew that Sam would never entertain the thought of being more than what they had been, and it stung like a bitch. 

 

"The last twelve years of my life are gone, and it's your fault," he growled, feeling a little dwarfed by Sam's larger build in close proximity "Every day tends to be 'rough'." He'd be lying if he said this confrontation didn't make his heart race, given the nostalgic feel of their heated bickering accompanied by the other man's musky scent as they got in each other's faces. The smell of smoke assaulted his senses, a quirk he'd gotten used to over the years. Rafe hated smoking, thought it was a waste of time and money- a weakness. But Sam was the most resilient man he'd ever met, and Rafe never asked him to put a cigarette out. 

Just like old times. 

Too much like old times. 

"Hey, don't act like you did all the dirty work. You never would have known about Dismas or Avery's grave without us-" 

"Oh, us, of course," Rafe interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Where is little Nathan, anyway?"

"What, this again? He's overseas. Working." 

"Ah," Rafe sighed, standing up and circling his desk. He leaned on the edge of it, and couldn't help but notice how ridiculously tall and broad Sam was before him. There was silence for a second, during which they avoided meeting eyes, and Rafe gnawed at his bottom lip, gripping the desk a little too hard for it to be comfortable. 

"I wanted to-" 

"It was-" 

They both interjected simultaneously. 

"You go first," Rafe said, genuinely interested in the real reason Sam Drake showed up at his door at 6pm on a Friday night. 

"What happened on the plane," he began, finally looking up at Rafe, whose blood ran cold at the mention of his brief exposure of emotion. He recalled Sam's hand on his knee, a subtle but very meaningful gesture, and the first exchange between them that wasn't malicious since the auction. Shamefully, his heart began to race, anticipating what Sam would possibly have to say. 

"I've been thinking about it all goddamn week, and I...I didn't know you felt that way," the older man continued, voice almost a whisper. "I realized that it wasn't the treasure or the glory that kept me with you, even when I knew Nate was out there. It was you. I can't just pretend that the past few years didn't happen because I care about you." 

Well, that was unexpected. 

"I'd never expect you to feel the same, Rafe, I just needed to get that off my chest," he added quickly, the roughness of his Boston accent revealing itself, crass and ridiculously attractive. 

The CEO could do little but stare as he watched his former business partner stumble over his words while he, what? Confessed? 

"So...yeah. That's all I wanted to say. You're busy, so I'll see myself ou-" 

Rafe pushed himself off the desk, not hesitating to grab a fistful of Sam's t-shirt, yanking him down to his own level and proceeding to shut him up by placing the absolute softest kiss on the other man's lips. Sam was entirely tense against him, but loosened up once his brain registered what the hell was happening, and he tentatively slid his arms around Rafe's hips, melting into the embrace. 

Rafe found himself slinking his own arms around the other man's neck, brushing incredibly broad shoulders that he'd never admit he developed a fixation with. They were both taking it achingly slow, tugging gently on each other's lips. Sam let out a low groan when Rafe parted his mouth in a rare moment of submission on his part. They were chest to chest now, and could feel each other's pounding heartbeats in a quick rhythm that made both of them reluctant to ever come up for air. He felt the tip of Sam's tongue nudge his own, and actually whimpered. The hands tugging at his t-shirt shifted to roam his chest, but Sam was already hauling Rafe back onto the desk, clearing its contents as papers fluttered through the air and landed on the ground. Their hips met suddenly, and they both groaned while Sam paused to smile into their kiss. 

They parted, and Rafe leaned back on the hardwood surface to gasp out, "Long time coming, huh?"

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone wants an addition to this, lemme know : ) comments are appreciated


End file.
